


An Omega's Bonds

by jaybird_elliott2020



Series: Son of Robin [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Child, Adopted Parents, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Descriptions of C-Section, Father! Jason Todd, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Damian Wayne, Omega Tim Drake, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jason Todd, So much fluffy fluff fluff, Tim Drake is Damian's MOm, Traumatic birth, instincts, mentions of drugs and drug use, toothrotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybird_elliott2020/pseuds/jaybird_elliott2020
Summary: There is a common misconception that the one who leads the pack is the alpha. The alpha is the one who is in charge of caring for packmates, protecting them, feeding them, assuring they are happy. Jason Todd would like to know where this came from, because in his experience, it was, in fact, the omega who lead the pack.~Or alternatively: Five times an omega was protective and one time an alpha was.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Son of Robin [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839805
Comments: 6
Kudos: 208





	1. Dark Motel Rooms

There is a common misconception that the one who leads the pack is the alpha. The alpha is the one who is in charge of caring for packmates, protecting them, feeding them, assuring they are happy. Jason Todd would like to know where this came from, because in his experience, it was, in fact, the omega who lead the pack.

~ ~ ~

Jason woke up on the floor of a motel room. The floodlights to the parking lot are shining through the open window.

_When had someone opened the window?_

He rubs his eyes and sits up, a nerve in his neck pinching a little before letting itself be unknotted. He looks around.

When he fell asleep, he was still in his mother’s car. They were pulling out of the driveway to their house. His father was running after them, but his mother drove so fast there wasn’t even a glimpse of fear that he might catch them.

Now, he was in a motel room. He’s only nine but he knows the ones in Gotham like the back of his hand. This is the one just outside Bristol. He doesn’t like this one.

He gets up and pitters around the room, looking to find change hanging around under the mattress and in the nightstand. No one has left their bags out and Jason is still so tired that he doesn’t have it in him to go looking. He manages 85 cents.

Outside the room it’s easy to smell that it’s going to rain soon. Jason likes the rain. It drowns out the city noise and his parents and the neighbors. From his bedroom the rain over Gotham makes everything disappear. Jason thinks it’s magical.

There’s a vending machine, but it takes Jason a little bit to find it. He confused this motel with another one in Sommerset (same bedspread) and went to the first floor by the ice maker instead of the front office. As he walks through the door, Jason tries to remember why he doesn’t like this motel.

“Honey bun?” a off-putting voice calls out.

Jason remembers.

“What?” he sputters. He tries to square out his shoulders and look bigger than he is. Even though he’s an alpha he is skinny and short and, he supposes, looks more omega than other alphas.

There’s another alpha man, he’s behind the desk. He taps the wood, his finger hitting next to a wrapped honey bun.

“It’s warm,” he says.

“I’m ok,” Jason replies. He doesn’t move though, just warily eyes the man.

“C’mon. You look like you’re about to disappear.”

Jason thinks for a moment, then approaches. He’s slow and deliberate. He’s glancing around, keeping his eyes on the exits. He knows how to escape.

When he goes to pick the honey bun up, the alpha man grabs him by the wrist.

“LET ME GO!” Jason screams immediately. He knows better than to let someone put their hands on him. It never ends well. Not for people like him.

“Think you can earn it, boy?” the man asks. A thick smile crawls across his face.

“LET GO!” Jason wants to cry. He doesn’t know how he could be so stupid.

“HEY!” a new voice comes, followed by the door slamming shut.

Both Jason and the man turn.

A young girl, maybe sixteen, stands soaking wet on the carpet. She’s dressed in a tube top and a mini skirt. Her heels are high, but not enough she can’t run. She’s baring her teeth, glowering at the man who has his hand tightly clamped against Jason’s wrist. Both the man and Jason must smell her, because the sweet scent of omega makes the man smirk and Jason more afraid.

“Let. Him. Go,” she orders.

“What’re you gonna do?” the man chortles.

The girl marches up, her heels making a muffled clack on the carpet. She grabs the man’s wrist like he is grabbing Jason’s and digs her nails into the sensitive skin leading to his palm. The man hisses and pulls his hand back.

“You bitch!” The man throws his chair back.

“Run,” she says out the corner of her mouth, standing still and strong against the man’s movements.

Jason is frozen.

The girl turns her head and glares down at him.

“RUN!” she barks. The man reaches out and grabs her long black hair. Jason isn’t frozen anymore.

He runs.

Jason sees the girl again hours later. He’s holding his knees and sitting outside the door of the room he woke up in. His mother isn’t back yet.

The girl is limping out of the office. Her lip is split open. Her undereye is purpling. She’s carrying her shoes.

She stops in front of Jason and looks down at him. With a soft, bloodstained smile, she pats his head.

“Don’t worry kid,” she says. “It’s ok now.”

And Jason believes her.


	2. My Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Damian's birth story (from Jason's perspective).

Jason is standing outside the hospital. It’s early in the morning, not early enough the sun isn’t shining into the street, but still early enough that the street is quiet. He’s smoking a cigarette. It’s the last one in the pack. He takes a sharpie out of his pocket and writes _cigarettes_ and _milk_ on the back of his hand, so he doesn’t forget to get either.

Bruce walks up next to him and Jason snuffs the butt under his boot.

“He’s out of surgery,” Bruce says.

“Kay,” Jason replies.

“The baby wasn’t breathing,” Bruce says. Jason’s breath catches, but it’s so tiny that Bruce keeps going. “They tried to revive it. Get it to cry. _Something_. Tim wouldn’t let them stop.”

“Won’t make a difference,” Jason grumbles. He goes to reach for his pack of cigarettes in his inside breast pocket, before remembering. He changes sides and takes out a stick of gum, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth.

Bruce is smiling knowingly, which makes Jason want to sock him in the jaw.

“Then …” _Then?_ “Then there _he was_. Jason, he was beautiful. So tiny. So fragile. But … he’s perfect. In every sense of the word.”

Jason nods.

“They had to take him away,” Bruce says, “he was too small to breath on his own for too long. Too small to eat. Tim’s still asleep, but when he wakes up he’s going to hate it. Not being able to see his son. He’s going to need people.”

“I’m not people,” Jason declares, popping a bubble with his gum. He hasn’t looked Bruce in the eyes since he got there.

“If this were anyone but Tim, I’d agree. But it _is_ Tim. The same Tim that came to you sad and pregnant. The same Tim you sat by while he cried at the sight of his baby. The same Tim who trusted you with himself while he was so … so vulnerable, I’m surprised your still alive.”

“None of that … That was just me being a decent human. It doesn’t mean we’re like a couple whose gonna move to Bristol and raise a baby together. That’s not the kind of life we live.”

“You’re right. It’s not. But that’s all the more reason Tim should have a _friend_. Someone he can trust with things he might not trust with others. Please Jason.”

Jason wants to. He really wants to.

“I have patrol.”

He leaves before Bruce can get another word in.

~ ~ ~

The day drags on. Jason is more brutal than he has been in a long time. He doesn’t know what has him so on edge.

After the fifth mugging attempt of the morning, Jason decides to knock off.

He isn’t tired enough to return to one of his safe houses, so he picks a direction and runs, hoping to get sleepy and catch a few more hours than usual. It isn’t until he’s across from Gotham General that he realizes where all his pent-up energy is coming from.

Tim’s hospital bed is close enough to the window that Jason can see him, wriggling around in bed, trying to sit up. A nurse is keeping him down, just barely and a doctor is administering a shot (Jason guesses it’s probably a sedative if they’re having so much trouble with him). Tim keeps moving. Jason is smirking to himself because all of the Bats have a high tolerance for most medications. He can’t take any prescription painkillers these days, they don’t have an effect—and if they do, they’re hardly productive.

The shot has only made Tim more upset. He’s struggling, but not with his full might. Jason thinks they might have him on a morphine drip. The thought makes his skin crawl. There was no way Tim would want to be under the influence of anything when his child was in distress, out of his arms. He wants to swoop in and pry their invasive hands off him. He knows he shouldn’t.

Before he can make up his mind, Tim is throwing a knee up at the doctor—who has begun to go in for a second shot—and is knocking him out. The nurse tries to keep him down still, but Tim has her in a choke hold soon enough. In a matter of seconds, Tim is limping out of the room and Jason is impressed.

It’s been a long time since he was reminded of what an omega would do for their child.

Still, Jason doesn’t think it’s smart for Tim to be roaming around the hospital hours after his organs were taken out and placed on a table. There has to be some kind of line in the sand Jason won’t cross. So, he goes in through the window, silently, and follows.

He loses Tim around a corner. By the time he’s caught up again, Tim is standing outside the NICU window, looking in with his hand pressed firmly into the glass. He’s shaking. Jason is afraid he might collapse and rip his stiches. He grabs a wheelchair and wheels it over.

Tim doesn’t even turn to investigate the noise approaching him. He’s staring.

“Hey dumbass,” Jason says, stopping short of running over Tim’s toes.

Tim still doesn’t turn.

“Hey, you’re gonna rip your stitches if you keep moving around like that,” Jason tries again.

Tim clenches his fists against the glass.

“Tim?”

“He was so small,” Tim replies suddenly.

Jason doesn’t know what to say.

“Did you know, you can feel them inside of you when you have a C-section? I mean you’re numb, yeah, but your still awake, you can still _feel_.” Tim’s cheeks have tears running down them. Jason is clenching around the handles of the wheelchair. “I felt them take him from me. I _felt it_.” They both try to steady themselves in a breath. “It hurt. It _hurts_.”

Jason pushes the wheelchair aside and approaches Tim slowly.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can say. He feels a little lost, which is frustrating because he’s always felt he was something of a calm and knowing presence, someone who knew exactly what someone need from him, exactly what to say.

“I didn’t get to hold him,” Tim cries. “He wasn’t breathing. I didn’t hear him cry. It’s almost like a part of me was taken away and no one even saw.”

Jason reaches a hand out, letting it brush Tim’s fingers, before he pulls it quickly back.

“If he’s anything like his mom, then he’s a fighter, a _warrior_. He’ll be ok.”

Tim nods, wiping his eyes. He finally lets his gaze rip away from the babies in their incubators and hospital beds. His baby blues meet Jason’s hazel and he gives him a soft smile.

“Thanks. For coming. You didn’t have to.”

“Do you think I’d miss this? When I heard you were going into labor, I thought, _God I gotta see_ this _shit show_.”

Tim laughs. It’s not lively like Tim’s laughs are supposed to be, but they haven’t been that way in a while, so Jason doesn’t take it personally.

“Have you named him?”

Tim shakes his head. “I thought I had time. I think I might be running out.”

“You should name him.”

Tim looks back. He looks a little more composed now, less lost in the sea of children. He’s focused on the one on the far left, hooked up to a lot of tubes and wires. The baby is sleeping.

“Is that him?” Jason asks, moving a little closer to Tim and tapping his finger in the direction of his gaze.

Tim nods.

Jason takes a moment, thinks, then says: “He looks like a Jason Jr.”

Tim laughs again. This time it’s a hearty belly laugh that fills the hall with a bit of happiness Jason doesn’t think it’s seen in a while. He can’t help but chuckle too.

Once the laughter dies out, Tim is still smiling.

“How about Damian?” Tim suggests. “It means to tame.”

“Tame? He came two months early, nearly killed you, and I’m pretty sure he’s the reason Bruce has started going gray.”

“He’ll be strong. Steady. A warrior, like you said. We won’t tame him. He’ll tame everyone else.”

“You’re a sentimental fuck.”

“And you’re annoying, what’s your point, Jason?”

Banter. Jason likes that. He grins that cocky grin he gets on patrol when he’s about to drop on a perp.

They stay like that into the late hours of the afternoon.


	3. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason breaks in and Tim is pissed.

Tim Drake is woken by a window smashing. He leaps out of bed and has his bo staff at the ready, slowly leaving his bedroom so he can investigate.

The window that has been broken is in the living room and faces the alley between Tim’s apartment building and the mini-mart next door. He thinks someone is breaking in.

From around the corner, Tim can make out a large figure brushing himself off of glass. He’s much larger than Tim but the thought that he might be overpowered never came to mind. His son is sleeping in the other room. No _fucking_ way is he letting this jackass take him down.

Without much forethought (and a lot of bottled up rage), Tim charges the figure swiftly, sweeping his feet. The man is on his back, grunting, and Tim is hitting him with all his might.

“FUCK! TIM! Stop!” a familiarly gruff voice shouts.

Tim freezes mid-swing and plants his barefoot into the man’s chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, using all his body weight to press into _Jason Todd’s_ lungs.

“Get the fuck off me,” Jason growl back.

“No,” Tim replies. He raises his staff again and hits Jason in the rib, just enough to bruise the flesh. “Why are you here? Why are you in my _home_?”

“Maybe I just missed your pretty face, sweetheart, ever think of that?”

The pressure intensifies.

“Ok! OK! Fucking hell, Tim!” Jason cedes. He takes as big a breath as he can. “I’m bleeding out.”

Tim jumps off him.

“Are you _fucking serious_? Why didn’t you go to the cave? Why did you come here?” Tim is rambling as he walks across the room to turn on the overhead light.

Once the soft yellow glow fills the room, Tim can see that Jason is laying on his back in a mess of glass and blood. He’s gripping his lower abdomen.

“Oh my god, your fucking serious!” Tim squeaks. He rushes over to the trunk by the door where he keeps the med kit. There isn’t any blood in the fridge. Tim only hopes Jason hasn’t lost too much. “You couldn’t’ve called? I would’ve let you in!”

“Next time, yeah?” Jason grunts, trying to sit up.

“Hey! Don’t do that.”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to fight, so he falls back on the floor. A piece of glass lodges itself in the back of his neck, which is exposed without his helmet on. He had taken it off on the roof across the street before taking the plunge into Tim’s living room because he knew how Tim felt about not being able to see Jason’s face.

Tim is kneeling beside Jason, glass surely digging into his knees like it’s digging into Jason’s neck. He doesn’t seem to mind. He’s focused intently on Jason.

“Can you tell me your name?” Tim asks.

“Jason Todd,” Jason replies. “This isn’t a head injury, Tim, you don’t have to test my cognitive functions.”

“No, but I do have to make sure you don’t pass out on my fucking floor, don’t I? Now let’s chat.” Tim’s voice is sour. He sounds angry. “Tell me what my name is.”

“Baby Boy, Sweetheart, Love” Jason teases. Tim bats Jason on his forehead. “Ow! Ok. It’s Tim.”

“Tell me what your route was tonight.”

“Started in Crime Alley.”

“Any activity?”

“Nah. Pretty quiet. Bats nabbed some would-be bank robbers early in the night, so I think the rest of the scumbags weren’t too keen on coming out.”

“Ok. Where next.”

“Burnley. Got some intel on a dealer working with Scarecrow. Turned up empty, but I got someone selling some laced weed.”

“Laced?”

“Heroin, I bet. But watch O send me the test results and it’s, like, coke or something.”

“So you talked to O tonight. Did she send you anywhere? Were you on comms?”

“Nah. I just called that in cuz I don’t really have the equipment to run those kinds of tests.”

“Idiot. You shouldn’t go dark like that.”

“Sorry but I’m not exactly the best team player if you haven’t noticed.”

“You do fine with me.”

Jason doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, that’s not a good excuse anyway. You need to be looking out for yourself out there. Bruce and O can keep track of your movements and make sure you don’t get yourself into this kind of trouble, ya know? You aren’t alone out there, Jay.”

“I am.” Jason’s voice is hard. He’s talking through his teeth. “I always have been.”

Tim clenches his fists. He’s been sewing Jason up while they’ve been talking, keeping him distracted, but at that he can’t trust he won’t stab the older man with the needle in an unhelpful way.

“Bruce wasn’t there, Tim.” Jason’s hands are shaking. “When Joker took me, I had my comms on. I screamed for him. I _cried_ for him. And it didn’t matter. I still died.”

“Jason—”

“If I can’t handle something on my own, there’s no one to blame but myself. There’s no one responsible for me. I can’t come back from the dead with a vengeance, a grudge, for _anyone_.”

Tim’s trying to focus on the stitches. He can’t start them again though.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you,” Tim finally says. His voice is wavering.

Jason tenses under him.   
  
“I can handle you being angry and stupid and _mean_ , but I can’t … I can’t listen to someone tell me that you died again. If you let yourself become a martyr to—to _prove_ something, I will _never_ forgive you.”

Tim manages to start the stitches this time. Jason is quiet while he works.

It isn’t until Jason’s eyes start drifting shut that Tim speaks up.

“Hey. Hey! You fucker, you better not fall asleep.”

“S’ quiet,” Jason replies.

“Then talk to me. Tell me about the rest of the route. Where did you go after Burnley?”

“The Mill.”

“Not Otisburg?”

“No. Spoiler and Black Bat were patrolling. They had a case around there. Took over for me.”

“Ok, but you went to the Mill instead of Coventry. There’s usually more activity in Coventry.”

“Not tonight. The Mill was swarmed with some of Black Mask’s goons.”

“You went in without backup? You’re a dumbass.”

“No. I didn’t. I took notes. I watched. I didn’t go in.”

“Then why the ever-loving fuck are you bleeding out on my floor?!”  
  


“Why? You trying to figure out who did this? That why you’re talking to me?” Jason gives a weak smile that Tim kind of wants to slap off his face. But he’s also blushing a little.

“Shut up and answer my question.”

“I was focused on recon. I was there for a few hours. They must’ve figured it out, because a few of Mask’s guys got the drop on me where I was camped out. I should’ve been more careful. It’s fine now. I took them out before they could call for back-up.”

“Yeah. You should have been more careful.”

Tim finishes the stitches.

“If that ever happens again, you call me.”

Jason nods. “Sure thing, sweet thing.”

Tim hits him again, but it’s so playful he can’t even keep his scowl.


	4. The Grocery Store Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Damian have an altercation at the grocery store.

Damian is seven and he and Jason are walking through the grocery store together. Damian is hanging off the cart and pulling snacks to drop in. Jason stops him most times, but occasionally Damian pouts and looks like he may cry and Jason can’t say no. He’s only gotten a box of coconut cookies and Goldfish so far.

“Jason,” Damian says, gently pulling on Jason’s shirt to get his attention. The older man looks down at him with a smile.

“Hey little man,” he replies.

“Can we have spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sorry, not tonight, bud. I’m making chicken.”

Damian whines a little and stomps his foot. “I don’t like chicken.”

Jason’s hands tighten around the cart.

“Damian,” it’s a gentle warning.

“Jason! Please!”

“Damian, I said no. We’re not having spaghetti tonight. Please, stop arguing.”

“You never let me do anything!” Damian is on the verge of frustrated tears, clenching his fists and keeping his arms folded tightly to his chest. Jason knows better than to push further. He’s content to leave the conversation there.

“Aw c’mon now, let kid have spaghetti.” This isn’t a voice either Jason or Damian is familiar with. It’s a woman and she’s puttering around the canned soups.

“Excuse me?” Jason hisses, trying to keep himself from barking out something nasty like _bitch_.

“He’s only a little boy,” the woman says. “You should just let him.”

“I don’t think I recall asking you how to raise my kid,” Jason snaps, dangerously close to yelling.

“From the way he talks to you, I can’t say I really believe he’s _your_ kid. What kind of alpha would let their child call them by their first name? You don’t even _smell_ related.” The woman is smirking, like she’s won something.

“You don’t know anything about my _family_ ,” Jason is taking a bold step forward. “So, back. The fuck. _Off_.”

“Or what?”

Before Jason can lose his temper completely, Damian is rushing the woman and shoving her into the shelves. He is snapping his teeth, catching a little skin on her arm. He’s growling, a feral thing Jason’s never heard before. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening and Jason is prying the little boy off the woman.

“Fucking _demon!_ You need to keep your fucking brat under control!” the woman screams. Jason has abandoned his cart and thrown Damian over his shoulder. He doesn’t respond, he’s more concerned with getting Damian out of there.

~ ~ ~

They drive home in silence. Damian is curled up in the back seat, resting his chin on his knees. Jason isn’t really sure what to say. He doesn’t know what _happened_.

When they pull into the apartment complex’s garage, he doesn’t get out immediately. But neither does Damian.

“You know that was wrong right?” Jason finally states.

Damian pushes his face into his knees, effectively hiding himself from Jason’s soft glare.

“Damian,” Jason prompts.

Damian nods his head slowly without lifting it.

“Ok. Do you want to tell me why?”

“Why?” comes Damian’s small voice.

“Yeah. Why did you do that? I’ve _never_ seen you do that before.”

Damian shrugs. “I dunno. I was … mad.”

“Ok. Why were you mad, Dami?”

“She was being _mean_.” Damian raises his head and his voice a little. His shoulders are tensing as he remembers the altercation in the store.

“Right, she was being mean, but that doesn’t mean we should hit or bite.”

“She deserved it,” Damian hisses.

“Maybe she did, but when you stoop to her level, you’re no better.”

Damian’s anger seems to dissolve slightly at this. At least, his shoulders drop an inch.

“Next time, you should use your words. Tell people that what they’re doing isn’t right. Tell them _why_. They might not listen, but you can’t force them to think like you. Okay?”

Damian nods.

They stay in the car.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No. Of course not. I’m a little disappointed because I know your mother has talked to you about this before, but I’m not mad, buddy. Not at all.”

“I’m sorry. For … for hitting her.”

“It’s ok, my man. Just … not again?”

Damian nods.

“Ok. Lets go inside. We gotta tell Mama.”

~ ~ ~

Tim takes the news surprisingly well. He checks Damian over to make sure he wasn’t hurt and holds back some chuckles before sending the little boy to his room for a time-out.

“He bit her?” Tim asks, smiling a little.

Jason holds up three fingers. “Three times.”

Tim laughs. “I love that kid.”

“Yeah, me too.”

~ ~ ~

A few days pass and Jason thinks a lot about the Grocery Store Incident. He still isn’t entirely sure what drove Damian to react the way he did. Sure, Damian has always been something of a short-tempered child and he needed to be reminded often to cool off or to take a break from a conversation to keep him from saying something he didn’t mean. He was getting better at managing it. He was gentler. But he never, not in all his life, had he gotten physical with a stranger. A stranger who hadn’t gotten physical first. A stranger who was saying things he really shouldn’t have understood.

Then, something happens.

Damian and Jason are reading a book together before bed. Tim is out on patrol tonight, so Jason is watching him. Damian likes it when Jason watches him because they get take-out and drink sodas and play video games. And they’re reading _Percy Jackson and the Lightning Theif_.

Jason is finishing the chapter they’re on. When it’s over, he expects Damian to beg for just one more chapter, like he always does when Jason reads to him. Jason usually ends up staying until Damian falls asleep. Tonight, Damian is eerily quiet.

Jason doesn’t get up right away. He closes the book and looks down on the little boy. He’s waiting.

“Can I ask you something?” Damian finally says.

_There it is_.

“Always, sweetheart,” Jason replies. He turns a little so Damian’s head falls back on his pillow and they can look at one another.

“Why don’t we smell alike?”

Jason’s heart stutters. Damian, of course, knew that Jason wasn’t the man who sired him. He was his mother’s boyfriend and the man who took care of him occasionally. They never lied to him about that. But it’s harder to explain the social cues of smells to a child than behavior.

“Well …” Jason starts. He wrinkles his brow. Maybe he should talk to Tim before he says something, he thinks. Then, when he notices Damian is hanging on his small _well_ , he continues. “You know your mom had you before me, right?”

Damian nods.

“So, you, legally and technically, aren’t my son.”

Damian nods.

“Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t love you like you’re my own. I’m just … we just aren’t related. That makes sense, right?”

Damian nods.

“Well, other people … they have moms and dads that aren’t like that. They have moms that are still living with their children’s sires. They live together. They grow up together.”

Damian quirks an eyebrow. He’d been beginning to figure out that his family wasn’t normal, he just wasn’t sure how.

“Right, um … not everyone has a Jason. They have a Mama and a Dad or a Mama and a Mommy or Dad and a Daddy, ya know? They go through life like that. _Knowing_ who they are to each other. Us? We just have to work a little harder, get to know each other. Unfortunately some people think that you shouldn’t do that. That only an alpha who sires the child, who _smells_ like the child, should be around them, raising them.”

“And we’re like that? We don’t smell like one another, but we’re still family?”

“Right. And you don’t have to _prove_ to anyone that we’re family. You don’t have to fight anyone in grocery stores.” Damian giggles a little when Jason pokes his belly lightly. “You just puff your chest out real big like I do,” Jason puffs out his chest and makes a face that keeps Damian laughing, “and you look them in the eye,” he closes one of his eyes and makes the other one really wide and Damian’s gasping for breath, “and you say: that’s my dad.”

Damian is curled up around himself, trying to regain his composure but falling into laughing fits every couple inhales. Jason laughs a little with him. Eventually they calm down and settle into bed.

“Seriously though,” Jason says, “don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t matter to me, because you do Dami. Even if, for whatever reason, your mom and I don’t work out, it won’t change the fact that you’re my kid, ok?”

Damian nods slowly and nuzzles Jason’s arm, latching on quickly before either of them can think too much about it.

“And you’re my dad.”

Jason melts.

“That’s right.”


	5. A Wayne Family Gala Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and parties.

Jason doesn’t like to wear his tux. It’s a little too snug around his arms and when he has the bow tie done it feels like he’s being strangled.

“Stop messing with it,” Tim chastises as he brushes Izzie’s hair.

Their daughter is sitting perfectly still but making faces at Jason like she’s saying _come save me_.

“I’m not,” Jason huffs, throwing his hands down by his sides. “I just feel like I can’t breathe.”

“You can breathe,” Tim assures him. That doesn’t help the face that something is currently tight enough to his neck he can feel it even when he’s still. Jason likes to be comfortable. If he can’t be comfortable he likes functionality. This fucking suit is none of the above.

“I don’t understand why we have to go,” Jason snaps, undoing it bow tie and tossing it on the coffee table. Izzie picks it up and starts wrapping it around her hands.

“Because Bruce asked us to be there. I’m still a Wayne, ya know. Gotta make the public appearances. Besides I think it’ll be fun,” Tim replies. He’s oddly calm about the whole situation, considering he hates these things just as much—if not more—than Jason.

“All those rich alphas do is ogle you until Bruce all but bites their heads off! How can that possibly be fun for you?” Jason barks. Izzie looks up at him and smiles. He smiles back.

“I’m excited to dance,” Izzie says.

“Yeah, sweetpea?” Tim hums through a hair tie he’s holding between his teeth.

“Yeah. Dami promised we would do the waltz.”

Jason can’t help but smile. That thought in and of itself is almost reason enough to go.

Almost.

“Can we at least leave early?” Jason begs.

“Jason,” Tim warns.

After that, Jason drops the topic altogether. He’s not about to get in a fight about this. He’s feeling anxious about being around so many people, but it isn’t worth teetering on Tim’s nerves when they’re working so hard to repair their relationship still. Besides, he isn’t really sure how to put that unsettled feeling to words.

There is also the added distraction of his oldest son coming down the stairs in a more traditional omegan outfit. He’s got on a long, flowing, black pant that almost looks like a skirt when he’s still and a floral-patterned top that dangles just above the hem of his pants. The shirt is silky and complemented with a black knitted sweater (which is really the only thing on him that looks like something he might wear every day). Jason thinks he looks stunning, beautiful even. It’s just that shirt. When Damian raises an arm to tuck his hair behind his ears Jason can see his midriff expose itself, Damian’s pierced belly button catching in the light.

“No,” Jason says, forcefully. “Not happening. Nope. Nu-uh. Nada. Go change.”

“He’s not changing,” Tim states, patting Izzie’s shoulders signaling he’s done with her hair. “Dami c’mere let me fix you.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Damian whines, self-consciously folding his hands so his arms hide his stomach.

“Jason, you’re making him feel bad,” Tim hisses, kicking his husband in the shin. Jason jumps and glares as he watches him approaches Damian.

“I’m not trying to make him feel bad,” Jason protests. “I just don’t want him walking around the gala like that. I have enough trouble with _you_ as is, now Dami’s gonna be subject to those fuckers? No fucking way. Go change.”

“Jason,” Tim barks, “this isn’t about us. This is about Damian. Bruce is throwing this party to celebrate another good year for WE, but also to celebrate Damian’s graduation, him starting college, him _growing up_. Dami wanted to wear something more traditional and I picked this out.”

“You don’t see _anything_ wrong with his outfit?”

“Not at all,” Tim snaps. “I think he looks stunning. I think you look stunning, my love.”

Damian blushes a little. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Now, c’mere and let me fix your hair,” Tim demands, reaching out and trying to fitz with the stray locks on his son’s forehead. “You really need to tie this back or at least _brush_ it.”

Damian ducks, holding his hands out to keep Tim away. “It’s fine. I’m fine, Mom.”

“Ok, ok!” Tim yields. “Is Bash about ready?”

“He’s still in the bathroom,” Damian sighs. He comes over and sits on the loveseat’s armrest, next to Jason.

“SEBASTIAN!” Tim yells, marching up the stairs. “YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES!”  
  


“I’m sorry about telling you to change,” Jason mumbles.

Damian turns over his shoulder and gives a half-smile.

“S’fine,” he mumbles back.

“It’s hard to remember that you aren’t a little kid anymore. You’re an _adult_.”

Damian nods in understanding.

“I’m still gonna worry about you, though, hope that’s alright,” Jason announces.

  
“Sure, Pops,” Damian chuckles.

“I like the belly ring, by the way.”

Damian goes beat red and laughs nervously.

“Ha, uh, yeah, sorry, I was gonna tell you guys, I just … It was like spur of the moment thing … I can take it out for the party,” Damian rambles.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You should’ve seen your mom’s.”

“Mom had his belly button pierced?!”

“God no! He got just got his ear done. Up here … uh whats it called … cartilage! Yeah it’s a cartilage. He took it out like a week after he got it done though because it kept getting caught up in his cowl.”

Damian grins. “Can’t believe Mom had a piercing.”

“Not as wild a child as you, but yeah, he had a streak going still.”

Damian laughs.

Eventually the whole family regroups and piles into Tim’s minivan, taking off for the party.

~ ~ ~

Jason probably drinks a little too much. He doesn’t have the same tolerance he used to, doesn’t down a bottle of whiskey on the bad nights now because he has Tim to hold him. So maybe the fourth rum and coke _is_ a bad idea. And the Old Fashioned.

He’s swaying a little, so he goes to brace himself on the wall. He’s not drunk, not yet, but he’s definitely getting there.

Without thinking about it, he’s sinking into the floor to put his head between his knees, a vain attempt to regain himself.

He must be there for a while because Tim comes looking for him.

“Jay?” he’s saying gently.

“Don’t be mad,” Jason whines. He doesn’t often whine or whimper or let himself make any distressed noise, but right now he’s afraid Tim is going to be angry with him.

“I’m not mad, baby,” Tim replies. He’s crouching so he’s level with Jason and Jason thinks the way the shimmering light catches him is angelic. “Are you ok?”

Jason shook his head and buried his face in his arms. “M’drunk.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tim coos, rubbing his thumb along the connecting between Jason’s spine and neck. “You just haven’t gotten drunk in a while, something wrong?”

“Told you,” Jason grumbles. “S’too much. These parties.”

Tim’s hands stops and he pulls away.

“You didn’t tell me,” Tim declares.

“I did,” Jason whimpers. “I tried.”

“Oh, hun, was that what you were trying to do earlier, before we left?”

Jason nods. He feels like he’s on the brink of tears.

“You know if you tell me this is just too much stuff, like sensory wise, I won’t make you stay. I’d never make you stay. I wouldn’t’ve made you come if I had known. I’m sorry.”

“Shoulda …” Jason tries to find the word for _talk_ but can’t, so he mimes it with his hand, “better.”

“No, no, I should’ve listened better,” Tim hums, pulling Jason forward. Jason relaxes into the touch and nuzzles Tim’s neck.

“Communication,” Jason chuckles.

“Right, communication,” Tim repeats, though he sounds sad. Jason wraps his arms around his husband and pulls them tighter together. “Let’s get out of here, my love.”

Jason nods, though he wants to stay buried against Tim’s scent glad forever he knows it will feel better to be home in his own bed after the night he’s had.

“Kids?” Jason says.

“We’ll get them.”

They stay for a moment still, hands tight to each other’s backs.


	6. A Wayne Family Gala Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason but dad-mode.

Tim and Jason spot their daughter first. She is following behind Bruce as he makes small talk with some investors. She watches him like he’s the center of the universe, eyes bright and wide. Her hand is firmly in Bruce’s, but he’s still stealing looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

When Jason and Tim come up to them, Izzie is hesitant to let go. She wants to stay and listen to her grandfather talk. Tim bribes her with ice cream, which gets her bidding Bruce goodnight quicker than anything he said before.

Next, they find Bash. He’s not even at the party really, he’s hiding in the front room where only a couple other people are chatting and drinking. He’s swinging an antique sword from Bruce’s wall around in the air. Tim is snatching it away from him when they’re barely in the door, Jason having to grab Izzie shoulder to regain his balance.

“Sebastian Peter Todd,” Tim hisses, putting the sword back on its mount before grabbing his youngest son by his ear and dragging him out of the room.

The only one left is Damian. Technically, Damian could stay if he wanted, could spend his evening chatting up upper class alphas and letting his grandfather introduce him to investors and board members, but they all came together, and Damian was only home for another week so they really wanted to bring him home.

It takes a bit longer to find him than it had been Izzie and Bash, mostly because Izzie and Bash are the youngest ones there and easy to pick out in a crowd, while Damian blends in.

Jason is the one who spots him on the dancefloor.

“I see him,” Jason says, tugging on Tim’s jacket sleeve. Tim turns and follows Jason’s finger as he points.

Damian is dancing with another boy. From his outfit, and pungent smell, Jason and Tim can identify him as an alpha. However, Damian’s face is wrinkled up in displeasure and he’s squirming under the touch the other boy has on his waist. It’s a wandering hand that slides up Damian’s shirt that has Jason charging forward.

“HANDS. OFF,” he barks, ripping the boy away.

Both Damian and the boy look taken aback.

“I-I wasn’t doing anything,” the boy stammers.

“You were making him uncomfortable,” Jason hisses. He feels a little more sober now, more straight in the head and less fuzzy, but it’s only adrenaline and anger.

Tim is moving in behind them, gathering Damian protectively in his arms. Damian is shaking and Jason thinks it might be his fault, but recognizes the wide eye Damian wears as the one he gets when he’s having flashbacks.

“What are you, his boyfriend? You seem a little old,” the boy tries to hiss back, puffing up his chest and posturing. Jason reaches out and grabs him by the collars of his shirt, deflating him immediately.

“I’m his _father_ ,” Jason breathes. “You still wanna keep posturing?”

The boy has his eyes clenches shut and he’s shaking his head. Jason lets him go.

“Beat it.”

The boy runs away.

When Jason turns back to his partner and children, they’re all looking at him like he’s turned into a eight foot tall green man.

“What?” he says, almost slurring.

“You ok, Jay?” Tim asks, tentative.

“M’fine. Let’s go home.”

And they do. 


End file.
